


Of Demons and Not-So-Angels

by SwordsDivineLight



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Angel!Caitlyn/Demon!Vi, F/F, Fallen Angel, Gonna be blunt, PILTOVER'S FINEST LESBIANS, Swearing, What Else Do I Tag?, sorta - Freeform, this is gonna end in tragedy probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-26 10:37:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5001466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwordsDivineLight/pseuds/SwordsDivineLight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They wished to judge you prematurely, execute you, a Judicator, because one day you will become a fallen, and that day is marked plainly on your wrist for all to see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> New story Idea after Demon Vi came out... I really want an Angel/Fallen Angel/ something similar!Caitlyn skin... that's all I have to say- enjoy. (/)v(\\)

You are a _Judicator_. A _Paladin_. A mere _Seraphim_ among many with a timer ticking down on your wrist.

 

Though you are odd, different- you do not rule and reign with a sword and shield like many of your allies. You are ridiculed, belittled, wounded for having a glimmering rifle. A coward.

 

You ignore the remarks.

 

None can argue your sure shot when your wings have you in the air, sniping at the enemy far below.

 

That is not the only reason- it is more of an excuse. For you have lived Eons, yet your timer continues its solitary count down. Marked and matched by no one.

 

You will not meet them for some years to come- days to you, it almost seems, yet still millennia away.

 

No. The real derision, is that your soul mate- your other half is not a seraphim- no holy creature, for your species does not breed, but is created, and none have been or will be until your current flock will be destroyed and killed. _Eradicated_.

 

You are alone in your existence, while your fellows have all found their other halves, bonded, morphed into something more and created stronger beings...

 

They wished to judge you prematurely, execute _you_ , a _Judicator_ , because one day you will become a fallen, and that day is marked plainly on your wrist for all to see.


	2. Chapter 2

Battle has never come easily. Your brothers and sisters have always delighted in it, watched the demons and unholy fall without remorse, but you, having known clearly that one of them could very clearly be your other half, have always felt pangs of hurt- of horror at watching so many fall.

 

_And by chance, a few of the fallen males have always been... intriguing, to put it lightly._

 

You do not lie to yourself when- after battle- you check your own wrist, see the timer continue on undisturbed.

 

You wonder, if, by chance, you should go back to the battle site, check the wrists of the dead and dying. But you don't.

 

You simply pray it continues.

 

_It always does._

 

Perhaps a coward indeed.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Your kind have distanced themselves the closer your timer reaches.

 

You do not blame them- leaving in fear of the taint that will soon spread across your pure wings, burning them, turning them to ash...

 

It would only make sense that on the day you are to meet your soul mate, you are terrified and shivering.

 

You didn't want it to end this fast, and while you have accepted your fate, even you are scared at what might happen.

 

It doesn't help that, half way through the day, the demons have planned an ambush- you cover your wrist, knowing full well what's going to happen as you take flight, readying yourself to defend your company.

 

Your stomach lurches, blood splattering across the field amidst a forest in holy territory. It is the bloodiest battle you've seen so far, both sides taking heavy casualties so early.

 

_You almost can't watch._

 

You force yourself to retaliate, firing shot upon endless shot. Only pausing, if only brief, when you realize there are _females_ in the mix- or rather one. Clawed gauntlets bashing through your allies.

 

You stare, amazed and not completely rational. _She is stunning._ Beautiful and muscular. You don't want to shoot, to simply let her be- tearing away at your 'friends'. Separating wing and bone, flesh and sinew and muscle-

 

She glances at you- notices- you do not hesitate in that moment. Your heart stutters when gazes lock- finger seizes against the trigger.

 

Taking the shot kills you, as though a bullet rips through your own shoulder, disappearing into a faint light that will only further the damage, burning through her red skin with ease.

 

Her screams are blood curdling- disgusting- you actually gag, feel faint, and try not to fall mid air to the ground. It pushes you to peek at your covered wrist, drawing back the linen bandage you used to cover it.

 

_Sure enough, it has stopped at 0. Flashing mockingly._

 

It will root her, keep her there, and if it does not kill her, the disability to move will after time.

 

You vow to disappear before the battle ends. Have them consider you killed or missing in action.

 

They do easily. It's not like you've always been accepted.

 

It's an easy sacrifice.


	4. Chapter 4

It is hours after your company has left, but it is finally long enough to move from your position, perched among the tree tops.

 

The site is eerily silent. Coated in blood and gore- Seraphim, creature, and Demon alike.

 

It is not hard to spot the only female however, whimpering tearing from her throat- coated in light blue wires, holding her down from the placement in her shoulder.

 

She must have woken back up, because after screaming on the battlefield before, you know she passed out as she finally went silent.

 

There is no terror in her eyes as she sees you approach, her timer ticking at 0 in tandem with yours. A familiar rhythm flashing across red flesh.

 

The look she gives you is pleading. You wonder if she wants you to kill her- to get the pain over with. You don't want her to suffer.

 

You raise your rifle. She merely accepts. Closing her eyes briefly with a quick scrunch- the tattoo on her face shifting itself.

 

You swallow, noting the tiny shivers- of pain or terror you don't know, but the thought of putting a bullet into the creature, lost like yourself... _hurts._

 

"Did your timer run out in the midst of battle."

 

She groans, croaks out a ' _yes_ ', and slumps further into the grass, knowing where this conversation is going.

 

 _'I knew the minute I laid eyes on you. Then my soul mate- you,'_ she glares, heated amber eyes ripping at your own milky white and blue, _'fucking shot me.'_

 

You drop your rifle, placing it on the bloodstained grass beside the two of you.

 

"I'm sorry." You murmur. There's nothing you know of to say. "This will hurt."

 

Fingers move to the hole in her shoulder and she hisses, baring her fangs threateningly.

 

_'Don't you fucking da-'_

 

You don't let her finish, sitting flat on her hips- ripping the bullet out with your fingertips while she cannot retaliate.

 

It's another blood curdling scream- the body beneath you writhing as you hold her down, forcing down your own heart and stomach until she stills, panting and groaning.

 

She breathes, trying to sit up before you push her back down gently, eyeing you warily.

 

"I won't hurt you anymore." You promise, pushing a lock of sweaty hair away from her forehead.

 

_'How can I trust you. A seraphim? You shot me- remember!?'_

 

She does not get a response, only a kiss to the forehead. The female tenses, breath stutters, but you continue.

 

A kiss to the nose- skip over the lips- the chin. Gentle nips and tickling lips ghosting over corded neck muscle. She growls, warning- or maybe aroused, until you pull back,having trailed to her shoulder.

 

_S_ _he smells nice- of smoke and ash, but both in a masculine and feminine way- something intoxication and drawing._

 

The damage is immense, charred and burnt skin lining the hole your bullet made, crusted blood coating the area.

 

You do not hesitate. There's nothing left to lose. A kiss is placed against the wound, slow, light, to heal- not hurt. And as you pull back, the skin immediately begins stitching itself back together, but not without consequence.

 

She stares, shocked and confused- maybe dazed. Watching skin reweave into its usual pattern.

You ignore the burn- the implication- the meaning- and forget everything you've known until this point. Your wings are still together for now, but not for more than a few years at best.

 

Her attention is quickly drawn at the smell of ash- different and unfamiliar as she realizes what you've done. Not her own scent catching in her nostrils. _Finally_ becoming the fallen they all accused you of becoming. Eyes widen in near terror, focusing on the crisping of your wing tips, blackening and pulling back from the bone, just a fraction. The beginning of their degradation.  If not whole  feathers- wisps sink to the ground in tiny bits.

 

She doesn't speak, so you fill the voided silence.

 

"My name is Caitlyn."


	5. Chapter 5

She sits up slowly, rubbing at her still aching shoulder. You're a basic healer after all- not a miracle worker. While you can take away damage, you can't make the entirety of the pain go away.

 

You're just glad that, in a weird way, she's still breathing.

 

_'Why?'_

 

You just shrug. You're not even quite sure yourself, you only know that the guilt of seeing a gaping hole in her shoulder was starting to make you feel just a bit sick. Demon or not.

 

"I was never destined to be with my own people."  She only gives you an incredulous look, pulling a face that wrinkles her 'VI'.

 

"Would you prefer I let you die?"

 

_'No.'_

 

She pushes you off her hips, getting up and dusting herself off. Grimacing at the gaping hole in her jacket.

 

 _'Look. Thanks and all, I guess.'_ She bares her fangs to nibble at her lower lip, looking you over with burning eyes. _'But unlike you, I've got people waiting on me to get home.'_

 

You don't let the tightening in your chest show, foreign, confusing and new.

 

The demon seems a bit confused at your lack of response, but you don't say anything or move, not until long after she's disappeared through the forest- red skin fading into shadow on the way toward demonic territory. Still contemplating your own choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to apologize for not being able to update (for anyone who actually reads this that is). It... has been... a really long week... and by that, I mean family issues, so while I won't go into detail or pull this card again, I'd just like to ask that you can forgive for this one. I'm really tired, and overall been focusing on my portfolio and art to clear my head, rather than writing. A foul mood won't do me any good writing, but have these two chapters at least, I'll try to update soon or sooner, barring nothing happens.


	6. Chapter 6

If you're going to be honest, your new found freedom is many things.

 

You find happiness that could not be felt under the restrictive haze of duty- peace in the quiet, in the breeze that ripples through the knee high grass- light and airy... like air drifting through your feathers.

 

Yet, it's painful. The change weighs you down, keeps your heart cemented between your ribs, pumping sluggishly against the soft depression. You're not sure if it's the future loss of your wings- the people you've decided to leave behind, regardless of their uncaring, self-righteous behaviorism.

 

_Or perhaps the soul mate that you let go- that left you-  even after sacrificing your immortality and purity for her sake._

 

Then again, you count yourself the fool. The naive child who thought a demon would stay just because they're your soul mate- just because you sacrificed your wings for their well-being.

 

She probably could have healed herself anyway, but you didn't want to risk it. Taking out the bullet to disengage the net was one thing- painful too. But the regeneration process would have been delayed with the holy powers imbued into the purified ammunition.  It was better than leaving her to have a shoulder rotting away while her body fought to fight a battle it could not win.

 

You continue to argue justification for your actions, when even you do not know why you did it.

 

That's okay, you muse, because even if you or she does not understand- if no one understands-

 

Even though you should-

 

_You do not regret it._

 

There's a feeling in your gut, deep, and low, and shallow all at once...

 

_That lets you know it'll be worth it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I messed anything up, let me know. I really just can't focus all that well right now.


End file.
